Of Liquor and Lace
by illyna
Summary: Haymitch & Effie drabbles
1. 3am

**3am**

"What's Effie short for?"

The question catches Effie off guard.

"Well, if you must know, I was named after..."

Haymitch interrupts by snorting loudly, "Cuz she's taken 'er heels off!"

He guffaws to himself, oblivious to the angry woman currently supporting most of his weight.

"Effie..." he tugs at her hand and whispers drunkenly, "it's funny because you're so teeny tiny – d'ya get it?"

Tiredly she responds;"Yes, I get it Haymitch."

She wonders if he would remember in the morning if she belted him around the face with a pair of 4 inch stilettos.

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><p><em>A place for my Hayffie drabbles, enjoy :)<em>


	2. Lucky Charms

**Lucky Charm**

"It's me lucky rabbit's foot - got me through a lot this has!"

Effie's eyes widened in horror as Chaff waggled the stinking mangled fluff under her nose. She mumbled an apology, clamped one hand accross her mouth and beat a hasty retreat across the dance floor, weaving gracefully through the crowd. Chaff laughed and downed his drink.

"What you reckon Haymitch? I bet you got a lucky charm or two."

Haymitch tipped his chair, eyes locked lazily on the shapely satin derreire of the escort as she scurried away. He grinned.

"Yeah, I got a trinket of my own."


	3. Heal

**Healing**

The doctor tells him she is healing up just fine.

Sure, they've patched her back together but something isn't right. She holds herself at unnatural angles, a marionette with broken strings. The bruises are mostly faded from sight but he can still see the handprints on her body.

The rebels tell him she is an asset to the team.

She is, as always, a whizz with information. She reports back her findings in a quiet monotone that scares him. He finds her working late at night, scribbling feverishly at plans and schematics. He is not sure when, or even if she sleeps.

District Twelve tells him she is a model citizen.

She follows the schedule on her arm precisely. A wraith in oversized grey, she limps in her hand-me-down boots and never complains. Stripped of her colours she is content to huddle in a corner and fade away.

He tries to tease her, to make her smile or fuss, but she looks a him with the vacant eyes of a stranger. When he reaches out to take her hand she flinches.

She's not his Effie anymore.

The doctor tells him she is healing up just fine.

He doesn't believe it.

* * *

><p><em>Double drabble, reviews appreciated!<em>


	4. Not Like That

**Not Like That**

As the meeting draws to a close Plutarch Heavensbee approaches them.

"Effie Trinket! Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

She smiles back politely; he means well. Haymitch is still slouched next to her and Plutarch slaps him on the back jovially.

"Well, now you two love-birds are back together you can cheer this grump up!"

Plutarch follows this statement with a lecherous wink and a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Haymitch reacts by shoving his chair as far away from her as possible. He shoots a death glare at the gamemaker.

"Don't be ridiculous Heavensbee." He snaps.

Something constricts painfully inside Effie at his vehement and instant rejection, but she swallows it down. She knows he is right; it is ridiculous for her to feel this way.

"You are mistaken Plutarch," she murmurs, "It is not like that at all."

She can feel the traitorous blush rising in her cheeks, and once again she wishes that District Twelve had make-up with which she could cover herself – it was so much easier when she had her mask of powder to hide behind.

As they stand to leave she notices Haymitch eyeing her curiously.

* * *

><p><em>Please note that not all of these drabbles take place in the same timeline - hence there may be some overlap. I'm just playing, they're so fun! illy x <em>


	5. The Storm

**The Storm**

The thunderclap awakens him, a scream on his lips and a knife clenched in his hand. A storm of epic proportions is building outside. Haymitch gives up on sleep.

He's in the squalid excuse of a kitchen rummaging for liquor when he notices the open front door. Effie Trinket is snuggled up on his front porch watching the rain - he'd almost forgotten she was staying with him this time around.

"Want some company?"

She jumps, all big eyes and pale skin in the dim moonlight. She's more skittish since the rebellion - everything she was has changed - but she's doing well. She's been travelling the districts, and helping to rebuild their world has made her stronger.

She slides along the rocker and settles her blanket around them both. They sit in companionable silence for a long while, the rain a soothing hiss. He offers a swig from his liquor and surprisingly she tries it, coughing as it hits the back of her throat.

"That stuff is terrible!"

She takes another swallow anyway.

He grins at her, and she smiles back. They replaced one of her teeth whilst she was in thirteen and it's slightly wonky, and he thinks it's absolutely fucking adorable.

Haymitch is suddenly very aware of Effie's warmth beside him - the gentle press of her leg against his, and she's really not wearing all that much and... oh god he wants to touch her.

He leaps up, befuddled by alcohol and bewildered at his sudden desire.

"Well goodnight then!" He blurts at a confused Effie, snatching the liquor from her.

He stumbles back to the safety of his room, bottle in hand, and barricades himself in. If I drink enough, he thinks, these thoughts will go away.

He dreams about kissing her.

* * *

><p><em>There was meant to be kissing, but Haymitch got away from me. It would make my day to get your review. illy x<em>


	6. Fight

**Fight**

When he arrives Effie Trinket is waving her arm in the face of the administrator from thirteen. She's distressed, and he seems bemused, which puzzles Haymitch.

"You can easily add another session. Do you know nothing about scheduling?"

The man shoots a glance towards Haymitch and shrugs, appealing for help.

"What's the problem Eff?" He asks, pulling her to one side.

"He won't let me learn how to fight!"

The schedule maker behind him is suppressing a laugh and Haymitch can't stop the smirk sliding across his lips. Effie Trinket is a tiny slip of a thing stripped of her costumes and heels, and is about as dangerous as a kitten. She sees his reaction and her face crumples.

"You're an ass."

He's never heard her curse before, and she's half way down the corridor before he catches up with her furious pace. Her eyes are full of tears but she's working hard not to let any escape. He tilts her chin up so she's got no choice but to look him in the eye. He can see the despair in her. Words spill out like water.

"I need to fight... what if they come back?" She whispers brokenly to him. "I won't let them take me. I'd rather die... they won't touch me again. I need to know what do to Haymitch, if they come back. I need to fight this time."

And she's terrifed, petrified, shaking in his grasp, but still as fierce as a hell-cat. Haymitch at once understands her helplessness as it's the same as his own. He pulls his own knife from his jacket pocket and hands it to her. She clenches it tight to her chest like a talisman.

"We'll start training tomorrow Princess, both of us. They're not going to hurt us again."


	7. Sunshine

**Sunshine**

"Hey Effie."

She's sprawled out on his old tartan blanket in a most unladylike fashion with books strewn all around her. Shoes and socks have been kicked off and her bare legs and poor mangled feet are soaking up the late afternoon sun. It's rare to see her so relaxed and he takes a moment to appreciate it.

She raises her head from her arms - her hair is natural today and the strawberry gold hue is beautiful in the sunlight.

"Hello Haymitch."

He shifts awkwardly - not sure if he should ruin her moment of peace. He drops and sits beside her, picking at loose threads on the blanket.

"So the kids have set a date for the wedding." He opens stiltedly. He feels suddenly stupid; she knows that already. She's been drafted in as wedding planner and there are about a dozen bridal magazines right next to her.

She stretches lithely and rolls onto her side to face him.

"So yeah... you knew that." He takes a deep breath, and throws caution to the wind. "So... d'ya wanna go with me?"

She's silent a long while, watching, as if waiting for the punchline.

Finally, slowly, she asks; "Are you asking me to be your date?"

"'Spose I am." Haymitch grumbles.

"Yes. I would like that."

She flashes him one of her lopsided smiles and rolls back onto her stomach. Her face is flushed and he knows it is from more than just the heat. He tries really hard not to look at her ass.

Haymitch lets out a breath and he knows he is grinning like an idiot. He clasps her hand in his before getting up to leave; it's small and warm and feels right.

"Haymitch," she calls after him, "Make sure that you wear something nice."


	8. Bend

**Bend**

_So I'll just pretend that I know which way to bend..._

The training regime was going as well as expected – seeing as he was a washed up drunkard and she was a prissy society girl who had never tried to hurt someone in her life. But Haymitch had made a promise to Effie Trinket that she would be able to protect herself if needed - and there was no way in hell he was going back on that.

In matching grey sweats they stood just inside the doorway to the training arena watching aghast as the soldiers were put through their paces.

"Haymitch, I cannot do ANY of this." Effie whispered nervously, eyeing a muscled man lifting a huge weight above his head, "The most I have ever done is yoga – and that is a peaceful art!"

One of the sergeants from thirteen eventually took pity on them both and placed them under his tutelage.

By four weeks later things had improved somewhat.

Quarter Quell training and lack of alcohol meant that Haymitch was in the best shape he had been since he was sixteen years old. Long sessions with the weights (he always was strong) and sparring sessions with other soldiers had left him feeling spry, and as he flexed a bicep in the mirror - more than a little proud of himself.

Effie wasn't strong - and recovering from her ordeal had left her fragile, but to Haymitch's surprise she was quick and nimble and a fast learner. Her concentration was one of determined intensity and her progress was surprising everyone. She had become friends with another lady soldier and they trained together with knives most evenings.

"Hey Eff, you about done?"

Effie waved at him from across the room, face pink from exertion. Her hair had started growing back in and the strawberry-blonde halo was drenched in sweat.

"I am just going to warm down, go on ahead without me."

Haymitch started to gather his things together, but stopped when Effie started stretching out behind him in a weird series of choreographed poses.

"What's that she's doing?"

A soldier looked up from beside him. "Oh, that's yoga. She's pretty good."

Effie's movements were rhythmic - like a dance to music only she could hear. Her face was serene as she slid to the floor and started to pull her legs out into a split, and then looped one behind her head.

Haymitch knew she was flexible but he didn't know she could do... that with her body.

The cadet nudged him, "Hey buddy... you're sort of staring."

Haymitch shook his head, dazed, "Eh, yeah, I'll just go and take that shower now."

* * *

><p><em>This is a follow on from my previous drabble - Fight - and really was not meant to be so silly! <em>


	9. Tea, My Dear

**Tea, My Dear**

Monsters in Haymitch's head are roaring in the morning light; the remants of a heavy night before. He glowers as a scarlet clad Effie Trinket, chipper as ever, busies herself with her ritual of making morning tea.

"Can't you do that any quieter, woman?"

She smirks through scarlet lips and slides a rose-patterned teacup to him. He gulps a big mouthful of the brew and instantly starts choking on the bitter liquid. Unperturbed, she hands him a napkin.

"What the hell is this muck?"

"It is tea, my dear."

Haymitch glances at the cup cradled in her grasp. It is as dark as his – no milk, no sugar. Why the hell does little miss chocolate covered strawberries, all sugar and spice, drink this stuff?

She sips, pinky finger extended like a lady, and gives him a tight little smile.

"Some things are just better bitter, would you not agree?"


	10. Dance

**Dance**

After five minutes of searching through Haymitch Abernathy's filthy pockets Effie finally found his room key. By now she was absolutely furious with him. She loved the numerous events and festivities she was obligated to attend as an Escort; she adored the dressing up in ballgowns, the scrumptious food, the socialising. But her favourite part of all was the dancing.

But there was to be none of that for Effie Trinket tonight - the District 12 mentor had made yet another scene and she had been asked to "escort" him from the building.

Lifting a heel she jabbed the nearly catatonic man propped against the door-jamb. He didn't move so she did it again - harder.

"Wake up."

It took all of her strength to haul him to his feet and shove him through the door. The movement roused Haymitch from his stupor and he began to stumble towards the bed, shedding clothing as he went.

"I am still here Haymitch," Effie trilled, a note of panic in her voice.

At her voice he spun around. He had stripped off everything but his trousers, and Effie was thankful that she had spoken up in time. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Why're you in my room?" He slurred.

Shaking her head, Effie turned to the door. "No reason, I am just leaving. Goodnight."

"Effie?" she stopped, fingers curled around the doorknob. "I'm sorry that you didn't get to dance."

She glanced back - Haymitch was reclined mostly on the bed, arm thrown over his head with one grey eye gauging her reaction.

Effie pursed her lips. Etiquette demanded a response to an apology, but she was still cross at him.

"It is okay, Haymitch." She managed to force out.

"S'not though, really... Cuz you love it, and you're good at it, and I was sick in that punchbowl, and that man tried to drink it..."

Against all her breeding a small giggle burst out of Effie's mouth. Raylex Littlejohn's face had been priceless when he had realised what was in his champagne flute. She pressed her fingers to her lips, stifling the noise - not wanting to condone Haymitch's bad behaviour.

"You smile properly when you're dancing," Haymitch continued, ignoring her outburst "Without all them teeth. S'like you relax, you look real pretty then."

Effie felt herself redden at the unintentional compliment.

"And I get to watch you shake yer tush".

She laughed again - half exasperated, half amused.

"Go to sleep Haymitch." She moved to drag the covers over his prone form.

He reached up, cupped her face and traced the curve of her mouth with his fingertip. Effie moved back, startled at the soft touch. He was like this sometimes when drunk, surprisingly gentle and insightful rather than the bitter cynic he usually portrayed.

"Eff, will you dance with me next time? I like your real smile." His eyes were already closed. She tucked his errant hand under the blanket, and pressed a kiss to his temple. He infuriated her so but at the same time there was something deep inside her that always responded to him.

"I would love to, if you would only ask me when you are sober," she told his dozing form.

She was well aware that he would remember none of this the next day.


	11. Double Dare

**Double Dare**

Haymitch jumped as a large vanity case was dropped on the table. A petite blonde woman wearing a white vest slid into the booth next to him, a huge grin on her face. He tried to focus - she seemed sort of familiar...

Chaff let out a low whistle of appreciation, and then burst out laughing, slapping Haymitch on the shoulder.

"Oh, you're in so much trouble now man! You should never make bets with the ladies, you always end up losing."

Haymitch stared perplexed at the newcomer. She really was pretty but he couldn't place her.

"Have we met sweetheart?"

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling. "Yes, Haymitch, many times."

It was the Capitol accent that did it. Something clicked in his brain, and he backed away from the woman at an alarming speed, bumping into Chaff in the process.

"Effie! It was just a joke..." She was advancing on him. Haymitch pushed at a sniggering Chaff to move.

"No way Hay! She's kept her end of the dare and came down bare faced – now you let her make you look pretty."

Effie rummaged in her bag and removed a handful of glittering tubes.

"Shall we get started?"


	12. Cupcake

**Cupcake**

The meal at Katniss and Peeta's had been superb that evening.

"So, I made dessert".

With a flourish Peeta pulled back the cloth to reveal a stack of beautifully iced, jewel coloured cupcakes. Effie found herself salivating just at the sight of them.

"Oh Peeta! They look amazing!"

Peeta grinned, pleased at her reaction. "Help yourself!"

Effie selected two - one pink, one blue, and placed them on her plate. Very carefully she began to scrape the frosting off the turquoise cake with one finger and pile it onto the other. Peeta and Katniss watched her puzzled.

"Not enough icing Effie?" Peeta asked curiously.

She looked up from her task, licking the sugar off the pad of her thumb, as guilty as a schoolchild.

"Excuse my manners," she said sheepishly. She pushed the now undecorated muffin across the table towards Haymitch. He grabbed it and stuffed it into his mouth in one swift movement.

"I don't like frosting," he garbled out around a mouthful of cake, "And she could always do with a bit more sweetening up."

He glared at Peeta and Katniss as if daring them to say something about the seemingly domestic arrangement.

"What are you grinning about?"

* * *

><p><em>Prompt #4 at the Hayffie Fanworks Challenge<em>


	13. Harlequin

**Harlequin**

It had to be here somewhere thought Effie frantically, delving behind the plush couch cushions. It was in her bag tucked away neatly earlier in the day. It would not do for anyone else to stumble upon her little secret – her one guilty pleasure. It wasn't as if she was hurting anyone, but oh, how embarrassing if someone else, or gods forbid, Haymitch - found it. He would never, ever, let it go.

"Looking for something Princess?"

Effie groaned inwardly - why did she always have to tempt fate. She just knew that when she turned around he would be gloating at her. She fought the embarrassment, took a deep breath and turned to face her doom.

Just as she thought her dog-eared, trashy, romance novel was dangling between the thumb and forefinger of a certain mentor. She winced, but quickly schooled her features into something resembling confusion.

"I have lost an earring – have you seen it?"

She was a terrible liar.

Haymitch threw himself next to her on the sofa next to her and let out a deep chuckle. He began to flick through the slender volume, stopping at the particularly well thumbed areas, eyebrows raising.

"Well, Miss Trinket - this is absolutely filthy! Nothing a well groomed lady such as you should be troubling yourself with..." he trailed off, mouth open as he began to skim a particularly lewd section.

Ignoring all her finishing school training, Effie reached over and snatched the book out of his grasp. Haymitch glowered as she tucked it under her arm.

"I was enjoying that. Dinner with the Baron was just getting interesting!" he grumbled.

Involuntarily Effie's eyes flicked to the dining table at the back of the room. A blush rose in her cheeks. She knew which paragraph Haymitch had been perusing- and knew exactly how... raunchily... it ended.

Haymitch was watching her reaction and enjoying her discomfort - she felt exposed and vulnerable.

"I am going to bed," better to get away now before she embarrassed herself further. She shot him a glare. "Do not tell anyone!"

He ran a lingering gaze over her body, nodded.

"I'll keep your dirty little secret Princess – but you let me finish reading that sometime. It might give me an idea or two. Now I know what you like..." He flashed her a lascivious grin.

Effie quivered involuntarily and bolted from the room.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge prompt #1 - Guilty Pleasures<em>**


	14. Reel

**Reel**

It was Peeta that had finally convinced Effie that it would be okay for her to come to the Céilidh at the Hob. It was a time to celebrate the harvest and to toast the rebuilding of Twelve.

The boy had a golden tongue and she was very easily swayed.

* * *

><p>She had dressed down for the occasion in a simple yellow frock. She felt almost invisible perched in a dark corner without her colour and sparkle. It was probably for the best – the few townsfolk that did recognise her these days were decidedly chilly if not downright hostile. She did not blame them – how could she? Half the time she was still disgusted with herself.<p>

She sipped her drink, something strong made of apples that Haymitch had thrust into her hands, and watched as people arrived dressed in their Sunday best, voices greeting eachother with love and honour.

* * *

><p>This wasn't a party as she knew it - everyone was relaxed and whole families intermingled. She watched as Peeta and Katniss moved throughout the large space, greeting almost everyone by name, exchanging hugs and kind words over news of their upcoming nuptials.<p>

Effie hadn't even realised she craved such intimacy before. A hollowness in her chest seemed be crawling up inside her, making her eyes smart and sting. She was a nobody here - a nothing. Or even worse a blight which had brought them nothing but pain. She did not belong.

Haymitch appeared beside her, his solid presence a comfort as he forced himself onto the bench.

"Not having fun huh? 'Spose its not as fancy as those Capitol shindigs you're used to."

She studied the mug in her hands intently not wanting him to see how upset she really was. How lost she felt amongst these people – his people.

"It is nice." she assured him. "I have just never been to a...Céilidh... before."

He seemed to sense her discomfort for once and didn't press her further.

"They'll start the reels and jigs soon. You'll like them. I'll find you for a dance, all right Princess?"

She smiled faintly.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>The music is entrancing and the complex dance steps make Effie dizzy just trying to follow them. It is beautiful and distracting, the up-tempo beat making her forget herself for a little while.<p>

An elderly man seats himself in the centre of the band carrying a small velvet lined case. He opens it to reveal the most exquisite violin that Effie has ever seen, hand carved and inlaid with shell.

As a young girl Effie was forced to take music lessons as part of her deportment lessons - a young lady who could entertain was seen as a great asset in a trophy wife. Her several years of violin lessons were some of the happiest times of her childhood – evenings when she could lose herself in music away from the demands of perfection from her mother and father.

But when the gentleman begins to play – oh – Effie has not heard anything like it before. She is enthralled immediately at his intricacy and skill as he coaxes notes out of the instrument. People whirl all around her as she edges closer to the band – she wants to be able to play like this; free and easy, fun and complicated all at the same time.

In the break she steps forward to speak to him.

"Your playing – it is amazing. I wish I could play like that."

He looks at her through familiar grey eyes, a grin creasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Thank you kindly miss. I've not had much call for it lately, but tonight seems to be the night for celebrating. Do you play?"

She nods, hesitantly. "A long time ago."

"You never forget, here, give it a shot."

She takes the instrument reverently, feeling the delicate weight of the bow in her hands. She is pleased she ridded herself of her false nails now as she runs her fingers over the taut strings.

The classical piece which emerges from the violin when she draws the bow is haunting and note perfect. The people around her fall silent as she plays - tears falling in mourning.

* * *

><p>The old man, Bill, peers at her face intently.<p>

"What's your name girl?"

Effie was suddenly aware of the silence of the crowd awaiting her response.

"Effie. Effie Trinket. From the Capitol."

Bill snorted and shook his head.

"Oh, you're her. I thought you looked familiar." She passed the fiddle back to him with gentle fingers. "Well, you can play, I'll give you that."

"You... don't care?" She asked uncertainly.

A sad smile crossed Bill's face.

"Well, the way I hear it you did a lot of things back when, some bad, some good. And some things were done to you as well, and none of was them good. But you chose what was right in your heart, and your path ended up here. You did good by us in the end. No point in grudges. You're not Effie from the Capitol no more."

Effie swiped at her eyes as quiet murmured assent rippled slowly around her.

"Thank you." Her heart was reeling. The two simple words did not seem like enough to express her gratitude to these people.

"'Sides, Haymitch seems to like you well enough."

* * *

><p>Many glasses of cider and countless jigs later Haymitch finds her. She is trying in vain to learn another reel from Greasy Sae. Her face is pink from alcohol.<p>

"Charming the room now, huh Princess?"

"Haymitch!"

She's definitely a little on the intoxicated side, but she's smiling at last. She throws her arms around him in a bear hug, whole body pressed against his, face buried into his neck. It is a moment before he hugs her back, his fingers running up and down her spine through yellow cotton. She doesn't push him away.

"Want that dance now?" He twirls her around and she clutches him tighter.

* * *

><p>Haymitch holds onto her on the way back to Victor's Village - supposedly to stop her stumbling on the steep path in her tipsy state. She doesn't mention it, but she doesn't seem to mind too much either.<p>

"Did you hear me play Haymitch?"

He squeezes her hand. "I did, you were beautiful"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge - Prompt #6 - Effie is not really from the Capitol.<strong>_

_**Reviews make my day - thank you all for all your support with this so far :)**_


	15. Masquerade

**Masquerade**

Effie Trinket adjusted the bangs of the shoulder length black wig, checking herself from all angles in the full length mirror. This wasn't a usual look for her - black and white being too monochrome for her bright personality - but she was relishing in the opportunity to step outside the norm for a few hours. It was the Annual Gamemaker's Costume Ball and Effie had been preparing for days to make an impression on all the big-wigs.

Eyes wide, Haymitch appeared at her side, whiskey in hand.

"What's the theme this year then?"

"Uniforms." She reached down to zip herself into the finishing touch - patent leather boots. He swallowed audibly.

"I have a fantasy about you dressed in something like that Princess. Though in that the skirt's a little shorter and you're a little warmer - if you know what I mean."

She tsked through ruby lips, and flounced over to the door, slinging her fur coat over one shoulder.

"I've told you before Haymitch, keep me out of your filthy thoughts. It makes me feel unclean. Don't wait up now."

Despite her protests she couldn't help the extra wiggle in her hips as she exited the penthouse as a French maid.

* * *

><p><strong>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge - <strong>**Prompt # 7. Haymitch likes his fantasies; Effie does not**


	16. Cocoon

**Cocoon**

Effie sleeps on the small couch in his room most of the time, still too weak and exhausted to do much else. Her wounds are healing slowly but her nightmares now mirror his own.

He doesn't mind her there - he likes to keep an eye on her. He has seen more than a few Thirteen citizens looking at her with something akin to loathing in their eyes. Plutarch has spread the story that she helped plan the rebellion from inside and has gotten her released from Coin's custody, but he's not sure that it is enough to quench the blood-lust.

Effie wants to help him, to help them, wants to be useful. His paperwork has never been neater.

She's awake again, watching him intently with wide blue eyes but seeing something else entirely. Haymitch sits on the floor next to the couch, resting his head against her legs. Her fingers flutter like butterflies and come to land on his neck, stroking his hair.

"It's late Effie, go to sleep." His voice is gruffer than he intended.

She nods, burrows herself under the cocoon of blankets. Closes her eyes.

Softer, gentler, "You're safe with me, I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

><p><em><em>(This is a scrap that didn't make the cut from <em>___Long Way____ - seemed a shame to waste it :)__


	17. Stuck

**Stuck**

It was not quite dawn when the pitiful whimpering started outide her door. The knock that followed was hesitant.

"Effie? Are you awake?"

Semi-drunk Haymitch, Effie thought to herself as she wrapped her robe around her tightly. She had been up for almost an hour; checking the plans for the day and choosing her outfit. She tied a bright silk scarf around her messy hair and checked she looked presentable before she cracked open the door.

Haymitch was slumped against the wall opposite clad only in a pair of old corduroy trousers, a towel thrown over his shoulders. Water was dripping off coal black hair and pooling beneath him. Effie shut her door firmly behind her.

"What do you want, Haymitch?" she snapped. He had obviously been drinking again and she feared for the carpets.

"It's stuck Eff... I dunno what to do..." He gestured at his head helplessly, peering at her through dark lashes as if awaiting judgement.

"What are you talking about you silly man? Go to bed."

Hauling himself up took some effort, but Haymitch managed it eventually. He lurched towards her shaking droplets of cold water everywhere.

"S'gum I think... I tried to wash it out with some of that fruity shampoo... made it worse."

Effie spotted it then – the left side of his hair was matted and tangled around a huge pink lump of candy. It looked as if Haymitch had tried to both wash and rip it out resulting in a huge mess of hair. She pursed her lips in distaste – gum was so uncouth.

She ushered him to the penthouse lounge and sat him down to get a better look. It was a hideous mess. She picked at it with her un-manicured fingers - glad that she wasn't fully made up yet - she could have easily lost a nail in sticky goop.

"It has to be cut out," she decided. "There is just too much of it. I will go and get one of the stylists."

"No, no... You do it. You won't give me blue streaks or something worse... Those lot have been itching to get their hands on me". He looked at her pleadingly.

"I don't think that is a wise idea..."

"Go on," he hiccuped. "I trust you."

She retrieved her tiny nail scissors and sat him on the floor by her feet. She began snipping gently, slowly, trying to not cut more hair than necessary. Dark strands drifted to the floor. Haymitch grew docile under her ministrations.

She checked her handiwork critically, one side of his thick shaggy hair was now a lot longer than the other, and was stuck damply to the side of his head.

"Go and wash all of your hair now. It will be impossible to even this out if it is half dry." She nudged him with her toe. He was half asleep, warm against her legs.

He replied feebly, "Can't you do it for me Princess – you'd be so much better at it."

Effie tutted at the blatant attempt at flattery but still dragged him over to the sink. Haymitch hummed in appreciation as she worked the rich white lather of sweet smelling Capitol shampoo all over his head, watching her through half closed lids as her nimble fingers massaged his scalp.

"You are taking far too much pleasure from this Haymitch Abernathy."

He flashed a lazy half grin at her. "Just feels really, really good. You can do this any time."

She wiped the smile from his face with a jugful of warm water.

* * *

><p>Portia peered at Haymitch curiously over the breakfast table. "You've had your hair cut - it looks good!"<p>

"Thanks." He smiled sheepishly across at Effie. "Someone convinced me that I needed a trim."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge prompt #26 - Stuck<em>**


	18. Bottles

**Bottles**

Haymitch had to grudgingly admit that he more than liked it when Effie visited District 12. He would even concede that he sort of missed her when she left on her travels. But he could not comprehend how such a tiny woman needed so much stuff...

Two days into a week's visit and she had taken over his house her possessions. There was a stack of novels on his dining table, some sort of pink wine in his fridge (he had sniffed it experimentally, taken a big swig – it wasn't half bad), and even worse, intimate things drying on his washing line. She'd been washing and shifting and moving and organising. He couldn't find anything. She had even cleared away all his empty bottles - and he'd been using some of them to grow interesting mould!

The damn woman didn't know how to sit still. She liked to keep busy, she said, it kept her mind off of other things.

_Bad things._

Even though Haymitch understood why she was in constant motion it was still damned annoying.

Skulking off to brush his teeth he knocked a million teeny tiny bottles filled with shimmering liquid into the sink. More vials and flasks lined the window ledges – the sunlight streaming through them made the bathroom look like an exploded rainbow.

Fine, if she was going to take his bottles away, he was going to take hers. He started running a bath, throwing as many of bottles he could into the hot water; the bubbles rose high and sweet smelling. He retrieved the bottle of rose from the fridge, snagged one of the racier novels from the table and settled in for a good long soak.

Much, much later he emerged wrinkled, pink and tipsy. Effie was curled up on the sofa, romance novel in hand. She was quiet at last. Haymitch passed her what was left of the wine and slumped down beside her.

She sniffed. "You smell nice, for a change."

He shook his head like a dog, wet droplets fell on her bare shoulders.

"Yeah, I used some of your pink gloop. Was trying to get back at you for moving all my stuff about. You don't seem to care much though. Now I reek like flowers and I'm reading this trash." He waved the paperback at her. "Sorta backfired didn't it."

Effie took a large swig of the wine and snuggled closer. Haymitch hesitantly wrapped his arm around her as she settled against his chest.

"Or maybe not?"

Effie just smirked and went back to her book.

* * *

><p><strong>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge prompt # 65 - Bottles. Apparently I have lost the ability to write anything other than fluff... Please review if you have a spare moment, it really means a lot to all writers :)<strong>


	19. Door

**Door**

The bouncer on the door of the newest Capitol nightclub is not at all impressed by the two drunken victors wanting entrance.

"C'mon, don't you know who we are man? Said Chaff impatiently. "I hear it's good in there – real quality dames. Just let us in!"

Unfortunately the bodyguard did know who they were - and the alcohol fuelled chaos which usually followed closely behind them.

"Lets go, I'm thirsty, we can drink in any old bar." Haymitch groused. This was not his idea of a good night, but Chaff had been insistent.

A gaggle of Capitol dolls brush past in a cloud of perfume and the velvet rope parts to admit them without pause. One stops briefly. She places a hand on the bouncer's arm.

"They're with me Mikhail."

Mikhail looks at her dubiousy but still lifts the tape for the two men to enter. The woman purses her indigo lips as they file past.

"Miss Effie, looking hot as always," remarked Chaff. "Thanks for the help back there."

"Both of you just try and stay out of my way. And you..." Effie waggles an accusing finger in Chaff's face. "Do not hit on any of my friends."

Haymitch catches her by the elbow just before she vanishes into the sea of dancing bodies. She looks at him questioningly, multicoloured lights casting skittering patterns over her skin. He's never seen her outside of the games before and the fact that she has a life beyond them has thrown him completely.

"Buy you a drink?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Just playing with scraps this evening x<em>**


	20. Karma

Effie was looking decidedly green this evening. To begin with Haymitch thought it was some sort of Capitol trend to match her jade wig, but by dinner her hands were shaking so violently that she couldn't hold her knife.

That and she was blessedly quiet.

Effie put down her cutlery and excused herself. The two tributes gave her blank stares and went back to the food.

She stumbled before she reached the other side of the room landing heavily on her hands and knees. Haymitch, in a rare fit of allegiance, went over to help her to her feet. Once she was up and leaning on his arm he could feel heat radiating from her - she was definitely running a fever.

"Let's get you to bed, Eff."

"But the tributes.." Her protest was weak as her propelled her towards the bedrooms.

"They'll be fine for one evening. They're going to be eating for hours yet."

They managed to get as far as her room before she started shivering uncontrollably again. She tugged at his arm desperately. "Haymitch..." she whimpered, before turning away from him and vomiting noisily all over the floor. Just in time he managed to jump out of the way of the splatter - only a little landed on his shoes.

She looked so pitiful, perched on the edge of the bed with her wig askew and make up running down her cheeks that he could do nothing but laugh.

"I am so sorry... that was rude." Effie looked distraught.

He rang the bell for an Axox. "It's fine, Sweetheart, really. Just think of it as karma for the dozens of times you've had to clean up after me." He pressed her back onto the mattress. "Rest up now – I can't do this on my own."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hayffie Fanworks Challenge - prompt #85 Karma<em>**


	21. Silence

**Silence**

"Wait!"

The slender red-head he had been following escaped into the darkness behind the bar.

The barman was big. And strong. Much stronger than Haymitch had estimated when he tried to shoulder past him to the back room.

"I just want to talk with Effie, pal. Don't make this a problem". Haymitch was frustrated beyond belief. He had been trawling the less salubrious establishments that the Capitol had to offer for hours just on the chance of a whispered rumour that the former escort had been sighted in the area. He hadn't even stopped for a drink.

The bouncer took another step forward menacingly, cracking his knuckles. "Think your funny do you? Why don't you lot just back off and leave her alone."

He could see her, face partially hidden by the door-jamb, peering cautiously at him in the dim light. She gave a wan smile and patted the big guy on the arm. His brow furrowed grumpily, but he backed off.

"I'm right here if you need me." He told her, glowering toward Haymitch. Effie nodded and shooed him away. Reaching behind the bar she retrieved a bottle of liquor and poured them both a healthy measure. It tasted good and warm and right in the back of his throat. Haymitch relaxed for the first time in days.

"So how've you been?"

Effie shrugged, the gesture shifting the collar of her shirt to one side. It was only then that Haymitch noticed the thin stripe of scarlet ribbon wound about her neck. A cruel, thick scar curled out from under it, prominent against her pale skin.

A red band around the neck; the sign of an Avox.

Haymitch slammed his glass down, furious. "Who did this to you? Who took your voice?"

Effie merely shook her head and shrugged again. She scribbled a note on a napkin.

**_I don't know._**

She paused, then added another phrase, lips quirking into an approximation of a smile.

**_You always hated me talking anyway._**

She poured another shot and shifted her stool closer to Haymitch. The silence curled thickly around them both.


End file.
